The Orphans Playbook
by jonasnightingale
Summary: Winn / Kara drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

Kara knows its serious immediately, serious in a way that all the other cases haven't been. Alex's face is drawn tight and her eyes are both wary and sad – as if she's approaching a caged animal. Alex reaches for her, before retreating and squaring her shoulders. "It's Winn." There's a moment of disbelief, where a laugh manages to bubble through before the look in Alex's eyes hits her and she crumbles, grabbing the wall for support as she sags. "But we just got him back…" she whispers to Alex as she crouches before her.

They know too little. Winn's been taken. They don't know where or by whom. They're working around the clock to break the encryption. They'll let her know as soon as anything of use comes to light. She puts her entire arm through a wall and smashes a table to splinters.

But it's the empty desk that breaks her. The chair vacant, the screen blank, and suddenly she can't breathe. She makes it to their secret office before falling to pieces – tears streaming down her face, breath tearing through her lungs; as she imagines him, bound, injured, alone, not certain if she'd save him.

James eventually finds her but his arms around her feel wrong. They're too strong, and they hold her in the wrong place, and all of a sudden a realisation rips through her that shatters her heart all over again. Through the haze she can hear someone say something about a panic attack and there's a paper bag pressed to her mouth.

Lucy is crowded in behind James, standing awkwardly half in the door and looking unsure. There's a phone passed back and Alex's voice is coming through the speaker. Her voice cracks as she sobs out the question, "what if that was the last time I see him?" She pictures his face, that look in his eyes, one she'd seen too frequently, the face of a man who leapt off a cliff knowing full well the landing could cripple him.

He's in every corner of her mind, in every crevice of the room around her. And she thinks about the man she met that first day at CatCo., the man who left wrapped gifts and cupcakes on her desk every birthday, the man who was thankful for her, who loved her; _she knows him_. A memory of his voice breaks through the screaming static in her head, an accusatory "I'm never disappointed in Supergirl. I _was_ disappointed in you." She gulps in a breathe and holds it, slowly stumbling to her feet and readjusting her glasses; he wouldn't have given up on her so easily.

It's three days later when he staggers out behind some DEO agents, Alex firmly beneath his arm keeping him standing. There's so much blood, burn marks through his shirt, and she can hear the whispers back at the van, "torture" they say, "admirable" they say. Her arms are around him in a split second.

She feels him breathe deeply against her and there's some part of her that just knows it's the first real breath he's drawn for days. He stays for a moment, one instant where his hands almost move to her back. But he withdraws and there's a new vagueness to his gaze she almost wishes she couldn't see through.

She wants to hold him there, force his eyes to meet hers. But he's fixed on some invisible point in the distance and his shoulders draw almost imperceptibly. She let's him go. His eyes dart to catch hers for the briefest of moments before he turns away with a small nod. "You're my best friend." It's almost a whisper, and she'd be embarrassed at the way her voice cracks over it if there weren't so much hanging in the balance. He's stopped shuffling away and she dares to take a small half-step closer. "Thank you. For saving my life. Again." And he's gone.

The door is cool against her forehead as she listens to him stutter around the apartment. She's been standing here for near an hour, trying to work up the courage to knock, or leave, she's not sure which. Instead she types out a quick text, 'I could do with that "creepy little doll" about now.' The only response she gets is quiet sobs that leak through the door as she slides down against it.


	2. Chapter 2

She wants to be happy. Truly. She wants to be giddy and blushing and excited for the tomorrows. But as the wind rushes around her and the city lights glow beneath her, she knows she is not. It was nice, sure; he was cute and he was certain as he leant towards her. But even as her mental checklist gave him the big tick of approval, she knew there was something missing. That undefinable thing. The thing that had Alex grinning like a maniac after that first date with Richie in eighth grade, the thing that made Sylvia dance around the kitchen singing in the mornings - the vaguely coined "spark".

Two weeks ago maybe she could have pretended that this was it, that it was there. But there was a nagging in the pit of her stomach that told her another tale; one of chaste stolen kisses and hands on cheeks, wet tears brushing against her face and pleading "don't go"s.

It takes a week of avoiding Adam and trying to catch Winn's eye each time he brushes past her. She watches her best friend smile - big and bright and genuine - at the redhead from payroll and instinctively her own lips raise, brow soon creasing as she thinks on how long it's been since that smile has been aimed at her. And she finally labels that feeling thats been dragging her around - _yearning._ Stunned by the realisation she stands in the middle of the office, notebook in hand, staring at the elevator doors long after they've closed.

James approaches her carefully, slowly, his large hand wraps around her elbow and he positions his face immediately in front of hers. It takes a minute for her eyes to focus on him before she mutters a scared "I think I made a mistake".


	3. Chapter 3

She's woozy as Alex props her into a sitting position, sore and lightheaded. And her eyes instinctively search for his. It's ridiculous, she realises belatedly as her head turns, to expect him to be here in the DEO. But he is; they both are. There's two terrified faces watching her through the glass and as she catalogues their faces she's knocked breathless by a realisation. Because there was someone pulling her through as her body fought the invasion, there was a set of eyes she was fighting to see again and a laugh she just couldn't give up on. They just didn't belong to the man she expected.

He's nervous to cross into her house, lingering at the door as they support her to the couch. James is right beside her, eyes burning into hers with a relieved adrenaline, but she can't help herself as she turns to catch the green eyes that are so steadfastly avoiding her own. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets in an attempt to hide their shaking and there are traitorous lines in his face that tell of his exhaustion and worry. He manages a half-smile at her all the same as he mutters about leaving her to rest. James' brow creases as he turns his head towards the other man, but she understands. In the same way that he understands her weary plea when she merely utters his name.

Her head has fallen to his shoulder and she's surprised he doesn't shy away as she curls into him. In the background, the Golden Girls poke fun at each other. She's not listening. Just focusing on him, breathing, sturdy, here. His arm is wrapped loosely around her and it's taking all the effort he has to keep his fingers immobile, to not scare her away. It's been such a long time since he came first, since she asked him to stay, and it's all feeling like a dream he'd held for too long. The scotch bottle at home is calling his name but he can't bear to pull away from her.

He doesn't even notice she's asleep until Alex gets back. As the older sister smiles at him over the top of a pizza box, he remembers just how at peace he had always been here. Alex hands him a piece and lets her hand drop to stroke Kara's hair as she whispers a secret 'don't count yourself out of the game quite yet' to Winn.


End file.
